Sherlock Holmes: The mystery and the man
by fireflygirl1995
Summary: This is the first chapter of fan fiction about John and an OC of mine, Amy Lavens. Later on in the story, a romance develops between Sherlock and Amy.


"Well, dear, this is it, 221C Baker Street," Mrs. Hudson, a woman of about sixty, showed me into the downstairs apartment, sorry, "flat", or 221 Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson seemed very nice and I was glad I had run into her earlier that day at her shop: Speedy's Café. I had just moved to England, for a break from college, from America. It was my second week in London and I had just decided to go looking at "flats" when Mrs. Hudson suggested the one by her shop.  
"Mind you dear, it's a bit damp, so it comes at a discounted price: £650. I'm assuming you'll be staying for a while, Amy?" I nodded. "Will you need a job? I could use a bit of extra help at the shop."  
I smiled gratefully. "That would be wonderful. Thank you very much Mrs. Hudson. What would you like me to do?"  
"Well, I handle all the baking and such, but you can be the cashier if you'd like. Lily, my other cashier, is on temporary leave for a few months. She's just had a baby, actually," she added in a whisper.  
"Oh, that's nice," I said genuinely.  
"Do you need any help with your luggage? I have a few furnishings in the flat; a bed, couch, those types of things. It could use with some paint and the like, but it will look very nice once you put some homey touches on it."  
I looked around the "flat". There was a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and living room. Mrs. Hudson was quite right: there were sparse furnishings in the apartment: just a bed, sofa, table and chair along with a fridge and stove in the kitchen. All the necessities were in the bathroom though. Even a rug and toilet cover.  
"Does anyone live in 221B?" I asked, curious.  
Mrs. Hudson nodded. "Oh yes. Sherlock Holmes and his friend Dr. Watson."  
"Ah. Is there…anything I should know about either one of them before I move in?" I asked.  
"So you've decided?" Mrs. Hudson asked, clapping her hands together.  
"Only if Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson won't be troublesome." I said, jokingly.  
Mrs. Hudson shook her head, "Oh no. They're no trouble at all. Sherlock does like to play his violin on occasion. And they do have a domestic every once in a while, but doesn't everyone?" She asked, smiling.  
"Yes, I suppose so." I had one last look around the rooms. "I'll take it." I said, shaking Mrs. Hudson's hand.  
"Perfect. I'll make a cuppa' for you and introduce you to the boys, if you'd like."  
"I'd love that." I said, as Mrs. Hudson made her way around the corner to her own flat. "Well now," I said, taking out a notepad and a pen. "What to buy, what to buy." I walked around the rooms making notes on what to buy and where to put things when I heard a soft knock at the door.  
"Hello," I said when I saw a man standing in the doorway. He was very attractive. He had light brown hair, stood erect, and wore a green sweater and jeans. His features were soft and pleasing. "I'm Amy Laver." I walked over to him and stuck out my hand.  
"You're American," He said, smiling as he shook my hand. I nodded. "I'm John Watson."  
"Oh, so you're the Doctor?" I asked.  
"You've heard of me?" He said, still holding onto my hand.  
"Yes," I answered, laughing. "Mrs. Hudson went to make me a "cuppa", and then she was going to introduce me to you and Mr. Holmes."  
"Ah. You're a friend of Mrs. Hudson's?"  
"Well I hope to be, but I just moved in. Well, I literally _just_ told Mrs. Hudson that I'm going to move in here at 221C."  
"That's great!" John said, smiling brightly. "It'll be nice to have some friends close by." He let go of my hand and stuffed his into his pockets. "Not that Sherlock and I aren't friends. In fact, I think I'm his only friend, which sounds sad, but it's quite flattering when you consider how picky he is."  
"John?" A voice sounded from upstairs.  
"And that'll be Sherlock," John said, stepping out into the hall. "I'm downstairs, Sherlock. Come and meet our new neighbor." John came back into the apartment. "You don't mind do you?" He asked nervously.  
"Oh, no. I'd love to meet Mr. Holmes." I said, patting down my hair.  
There came the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and then the figure of a tall man appeared. He had a mop of black hair, blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, and wore a purple dress shirt and slacks. He was a good six inches taller than John, which made him seem even taller.  
"This," John gestured towards me, "Is Amy Laver."  
Sherlock held out his hand for me to shake. "Pleasure meeting you Ms. Laver."  
"Please," I said, shaking his hand, "Call me Amy, Mr. Holmes."  
" Ah, you're American. Call me Sherlock. I hate formalities." He said assertively. I nodded.  
"Do you need any help with your luggage?" John asked, looking from Sherlock to me.  
"I'd love some, but my bags are at my hotel at the moment." I smiled nervously.  
"Well, I can go with you to your hotel and help you with your bags if you'd like," John suggested.  
I nodded, smiling. "That's a great idea."  
Sherlock made a sort of scoff.  
"Mrs. Hudson?" I called out.  
"Yes, Amy?" She called back, emerging from her apartment.  
"I won't be needing that cup of tea. John offered to help me with my luggage, so we're going to the hotel now."  
"Oh, hello John, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson smiled at them in a motherly way. "Well, all right dear. Just let me know if there's anything I can help you with. You can start tomorrow if you'd like."  
"I'd love that. Thanks again, Mrs. H." I said, adopting the shortened name.  
"Mrs. H." I heard her mutter to herself, "I rather like that."

John and I hailed a cab and made our way back to the hotel I was staying at.  
"So, what brings you to London?" John asked.  
"Well, I was studying to become a historian, and I just got my Doctorate in History, so I decided to come here for a time and relax. You know, explore different parts of the world. I've never been out of America in the thirty years of my life." I subtly slipped in my age, feeling rather sneaky.  
"I bet your family and friends miss you." He looked over at me, "And your boyfriend."  
I laughed heartily. "Oh, John. I don't _have_ a boyfriend. I haven't had one for five years. Rather depressing, actually. There was this one guy who proposed, but he was a bit of a jerk."  
"In that case, you would like to have dinner with me tonight?" He asked quietly as we pulled up to the hotel.  
"I'd love to." I said, smiling to myself.  
"Great." He got out of the taxi and opened the door for me.  
"Thanks." I got out of the cab and we entered the hotel together. "It's on the third floor." I said, punching the button for the elevator. We waited for it quietly and stepped into it at the same time when it arrived.  
"Oh, sorry," John said, allowing me to go first. I blushed. I had only known John for under an hour and already I felt flustered around him. I was always that way with guys, though.  
After a silent ascent in the elevator, we arrived at my hotel room: 305. I opened the door and started to fill my suitcases with clothes. "It may take a while, John. I hadn't planned on getting an apartment so I put away all my things."  
"That's fine," He said as he sat down in a nearby chair, waiting patiently.  
After about half an hour of rushing about my room, trying to find all my clothes and things and making sure that I hadn't lost anything, I was ready to go. I had two suitcases, a duffel bag and a messenger bag with me.  
"I'll take those," John said, and he took the two suitcases and put the duffel bag on one of them.  
"Are you sure?" I asked, putting on the messenger bag.  
"Mhm." He said, rolling the suitcases out into the hallway. He punched the bottom for the "lift", as he called it, and we waited patiently.  
"So where would you like to go for dinner?" He asked, making conversation, as we stepped into the elevator.  
"Any where is fine with me. I haven't been here long enough to know where to good spots are."  
"Do you like Italian?" John asked.  
I nodded. "I love it."  
"Then I know the perfect place.

Two hours later I was standing in front of my new bathroom's mirror. I was nervous. I hadn't been on a date in a long time. I had decided to wear something flattering, but modest: a knee length sky blue dress to match my eyes, along with a black and gold belt around my waist. I wore gold flats, onyx earrings, and a bangle that matched my dress. I had straightened my usual red curly hair and lightly applied my natural minerals makeup.  
Taking a step back, I gazed in the mirror for the third and, hopefully final, time. "Well, this is as good as it gets, really." I heard a knock at my door for the second time that day. "That'll be John," I said to myself. I took a deep breath and walked to the front door. Smoothing out my dress, I opened the door slowly.  
John Watson was standing outside my door with a bouquet of roses. Roses. I had never gotten roses from anyone before, not even from the guy who had proposed to me.  
"Wow, John," I said, taking the vase of roses from him. "Thank you so much." I set the roses on the table in the kitchen. "Really brings color to this place," I said, laughing.  
"You look lovely, Amy," John said, looking at me with a small smile on his face.  
"Thank you." I said, blushing. I put on my long black coat and white hat. "I'm so used to the warm weather of Texas," I said, as we walked out of 221 Baker Street. "I had to go out and buy this coat and hat when I arrived."  
We both laughed. "Well, London's weather can be a bit…dreary at times." John said, hailing a taxi.  
"I like it. When it rains, that is. But I suppose I'll grow tired of it after a while." We got into a cab then and John told the driver where to go.  
"Baracca's on Cherry Tree Walk." He said, and leaned to look over at me. "I've eaten at Baracca's a few times. They have some really great Italian food."  
Butterflies filled my stomach as the taxi driver took us nearer and nearer to our destination. I hoped John didn't expect us to kiss or anything. I never kissed on the first date, maybe the second.  
We arrived at Baracca's fifteen minutes later. John and I had spent the ride over talking about London life. He had a lot of suggestions of places to visit when I had the time.  
Baracca's wasn't a fancy joint, which I was glad of. And I didn't feel overdressed, which was also good. A young waitress led us to a table in the back. There was soft candle-like lighting overhead which set the mood and made me a little nervous at the same time.  
"My name is Jamie and I'll be your waiter tonight," An older gentleman took our drink order then.  
"What do you suggest, John?" I asked, looking at the drinks on the menu. "They don't have peach tea like I'd like."  
"Umm. What about some red wine?" He asked.  
"Oh, I don't drink," I laughed. "Never really have. I'll just have some water," I said to Jamie. He looked over at john expectantly.  
"I'll have some…" He trailed off, looking at the drinks as well, "I'll just have some Coca-Cola."  
"Alright, then. You either of you like an appetizer?" Jamie asked. I looked over at John.  
"Just some breadsticks, Jamie." John said, looking at the menu.  
"Coming right up," Jamie said, leaving us to talk amongst ourselves.  
"What looks good to you, Amy?" John asked.  
My heart beat faster whenever he said my name. He seemed like a really nice guy. "I think I'll have the Shrimp Alfredo. I do love me some shrimp." I said, instantly regretting my Southern words.  
John smiled at me, "I love that your American," he said simply.  
"Really? I figured my accent would get annoying after a while."  
"Not at all," John said, folding his menu up and looking across the table at me with his grey-blue eyes.  
I blushed. "Well, I just love British accents. If I'm to be quite honest with myself, that's one of the main reasons I decided to come to London: to surround myself with Brits."I laughed.  
"Well I'm glad you did."  
I blushed even more, if that was possible, and laughed nervously. "So what are you going to be getting?" I asked to change the topic.  
"I think I'll be boring and get their spaghetti and meatballs." John said, taking a sip of his drink that Jamie just brought.  
"So what made you become a doctor?" I asked, curious.  
"Well, my father was a great doctor, and I really wanted to become one after I saw him save someone's life. After I passed all my tests and got my degree, I joined the Army to become an Army doctor. I spent five years on tour in Afghanistan. When I came back, an old friend of mine introduced me to Sherlock and now we share a flat together. A bit weird how some things end up, huh?"  
I nodded. "So you and Sherlock get along pretty well?"  
"Well, I am always taken aback at how little he seems to care about fellow human beings, but other than that, yeah, we do. Then again, he does play violin at three in the morning and had me up all night once helping me solve a case."  
"A case? He's a detective?" I asked, as Jamie came to our table again with our food. "Thank you, Jamie."  
Jamie nodded and left quietly.  
"Yes, he's 'the only consulting detective in the world', as he puts it. He can be quite arrogant about it sometimes." John said as he started to eat his spaghetti.  
"Yes, by the way he looked at me after he found out I was American kind of leads me to suspect that." I said, picking at my own food.  
"Don't let Sherlock scare you off. I'm sure he'll warm up to you. We're going to be neighbors after all."  
John and I ate our meal within the hour, talking about the colleges we went to, the careers we had, etc. He asked me a lot about what life was like in America and I was ashamed to tell him how mundane it could be.  
"Mundane's good." He said which led me to believe that what he was looking for in a relationship was something simple and easy.  
"You say that now, but if you lived in Texas your whole life, you'd want something new, too." I said, finishing off my Alfredo.  
"Do we feel like dessert tonight?" Jamie asked, coming to our table when John and I were both finished with our food.  
"Umm..." John looked over at me and I nodded, "Sure. We'll have your Zeppoli with some chocolate dipping sauce."  
Jamie nodded and went to deliver our order.  
"It's like Italian doughnuts." John explained when I gave him a quizzical look as Jamie left. "They're really good."  
Ten minutes later, Jamie came back with our desert. They _were_ really good. I felt kind of messy with the dipping sauce, but felt reassured when John got some on his chin.  
"You've got a little," I gestured to my chin, "You've got a little something right there."  
John felt his chin with his napkin and blushed. I laughed a little, and John smiled.  
"Glad to make you laugh, Amy." He said. Again with the butterflies in my stomach. The more I had gotten to know John throughout the day and dinner, the more I liked him. I was starting to rethink my policy on kissing on the first date.  
When the evening came to an end and we were at the door of my apartment, I had decided to kiss John, but only if he made the first move.  
"I had a really nice time, John," I said, lightly touching his arm.  
"I did, too Amy." He said, placing his hand in mine. My heart thumped and pounded against my ribs. I had only known the man for less than a day and I was about to kiss him. I guess that's how things worked in Britain.  
"John!" Sherlock's voice traveled downstairs. So close. Our lips had been less than an inch apart when Sherlock interrupted us.  
"Yes. Sherlock. Just a minute!" John yelled back. He looked down at me and smiled apologetically.  
"It's okay," I kissed his cheek and withdrew my hand from his, "Sherlock needs you. I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks again for tonight, and the flowers." I added, opening the door to my apartment.  
John looked disappointed, but nodded. "See you tomorrow then." He ascended the stairs quickly, most likely to tell of Sherlock for interrupting what was to be our first kiss. I was sort of glad he did. I didn't want John to think that he could take advantage of me and kiss me on our first date just because I was, what might've appeared to be, a naïve American from Texas.  
No, it was better this way. If he really liked me then he'd wait for a second date to kiss me. I entered my apartment full of hope and a feeling of confidence. I had the upper hand. I knew that John liked me because he was the one who went in for the kiss. So I had the power to reject him, if I wanted to. I couldn't get involved with anyone: I was only staying in London for a few months. The problem was, I didn't know if I would be able to reject him or not when the time came.


End file.
